Consequence by Madeline Sloane Page A

driveway.”
    “Isn’t that misappropriation of funds?”
    “Not at all. The chief has to have ready
access to his car. It’s one of the perks of the job.”
    Bridget sidled up wrapped her arms around
Boone’s waist. “Will you wash dishes?”
    “Occasionally. Don’t you have a dishwasher?
Tell you what, you cook and I’ll load the dishwasher.”
    She laid her head on his chest, the silver
badge cool on her cheek. “My hero.”
     
    Boone feigned interest in the selections
Bridget chose and after dinner, they retired to her sunroom to
order their new furniture.
    “No wicker,” he said.
    Bridget turned on the computer and opened the
web browser to the furniture store’s online catalog. “Except in my
sunroom,” Bridget countered.
    “Just don’t embarrass me and Morty. We have
to maintain our reputations as tough guys. Can’t do it with floral
bedspreads and too many throw pillows. And what do you call that? A
sham? What the heck is that?” he asked, pointing at a catalog
page.
    “It’s a fancy pillow cover you take off
before you get in bed,” Bridget said absently, clicking through the
web site.
    “Why would you take the cover off a pillow
and then sleep on it?”
    “It has another pillow case under it,
silly.”
    Boone shook his head and muttered under his
breath. He stood and stretched, then walked around the desk to look
at the books along the wall in the sunroom. The old shelves reached
to the ceiling and titles ranged from gardening to woodworking, to
out-of-date encyclopedias. There were hundreds of novels from a
book-of-the-month club.
    Bridget looked over the computer screen at
Boone. “Aren’t you going to help me?”
    “I thought that’s what we did an hour ago,”
he said, sliding his hands out of the back pocket of his jeans and
selecting a book about wooden sailboats.
    “The catalog is a year old. What if they
don’t have the same thing?” she said, her eyes pinned on the
computer screen. “Oh wait. Here it is. Never mind.”
    Boone’s cell phone rang, rattling on the
kitchen table where he’d left it. “Back in a minute,” he said.
    Bridget raised a hand in farewell, her
attention focused on the furniture choices. The couple decided to
keep the new decor consistent with a Pennsylvania farmhouse,
favoring traditional, rustic wood furniture. By the time Boone
returned, she had filled the virtual shopping cart with items for
the living room, dining room, bedroom and her home office.
    “For the love of God, stop me,” she begged.
“It’s more than $20,000 and I haven’t even selected throw pillows
and duvets yet.”
    Boone’s eyebrows lifted. “How much did Alvin
pay you for the old furniture?”
    Bridget grimaced. “He didn’t. I almost had to
pay him to haul it away. I traded what little he offered for free
paint instead.”
    At Boone’s scowl, she added, “Oh, and the
paint crew. He’s sending them over to paint the place.”
    When he still didn’t respond, Bridget pulled
out her ace. “The company’s offering free shipping and a twenty
percent discount on orders over $10,000.”
    “Oh, well. That’s okay then,” he mocked.
“Bridget, it’s fine. If it makes you happy, then let’s do it.
Whatever it takes to get a decent-sized bed in this house.”
    “I selected the California king,” she
offered. “It’s longer than the normal king bed.”
    “Let’s not put it on credit,” Boone said,
withdrawing his wallet. “Use this card. It’s my savings
account.”
    “I don’t want to use your savings, Boone! I
can pay for the furniture.”
    “Don’t be silly. It’s our furniture, right?
Besides, the money is from the accident. I’ve never touched it.
Might as well use it.”
    Bridget’s eyes softened. “Are you sure? I
know this is spontaneous and even I’m a bit dizzy with the thought
of changing the place, but I won’t do it unless you’re okay. I
don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
    “Just leave the recliner in the den. Promise
me it